Last night while walking home,
I struggled with the harsh criticism.
I heard the footsteps behind me,
And the horrendous taste of fear lingered in my mouth.
The voice behind me yelled.
Suspicion of disbelief enveloped me
Like the arms from a mother to her child.
I was the one in disguise.
No one could recognize me.
I was a victim of life.
I wanted to be creative, but the haunting words tormented my soul.
To those who choose to challenge me, I want one more fight.
If you can’t believe my story, then don’t read my writing.
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